


What a shame!

by Chiakery



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 21:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiakery/pseuds/Chiakery
Summary: Hi there!It's probably the thing I'm the proudest about, even tho I'm not much into writing poetry and try writing stories most of the time.But hey, what are sleepless nights for if not poetry?





	What a shame!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
> It's probably the thing I'm the proudest about, even tho I'm not much into writing poetry and try writing stories most of the time.  
> But hey, what are sleepless nights for if not poetry?

What a shame that You’re not here.  
I feel a concrete ring inside my head  
Killing the temptation of looking further  
Far beyond this paper wall built from forgotten rules.  
I’m buried alive but I still await a sign  
That will banish all those mysterious creatures  
Hiding underneath our beds, where no one can see them.  
But enough about me, please tell me:  
What colour has a world that is not limited by horizons? 

What a shame that You’re not here.  
I booked up a place for You  
In the first row of seats in the Theatre of Life.  
I was looking for You while repeating words,  
That, someone, found in old books long forgotten.  
With open mouth and tied soul, I was acting  
My role of old, stage prop, with few scratches,  
One, no one will remember by the end of the day.  
And around me, there were comedians and artists  
Wearing shirts made of Narcissus’ hairs  
Believing that they’re saviours of this world.  
But enough about me, please tell me:  
How do You feel when all of this is not your concern?

What a shame that You’re not here.  
Mindless people are killing the last bit of silence  
With a cacophony of their barbaric existence.  
And the world will drown in anger and lies  
But then the Day will come.  
And like Don Quixote I will fight my monsters  
That aren’t what they seem to be.  
And They’ll call me crazy.  
But I will trust my heart since my mind is broken.  
But enough about me, please tell me:  
How do you think this story will end?


End file.
